Rachel
My skin is itching. Prickles course up and down my spine. I’m unsettled. Ready to explode.
I’m looking for something. Anything, really. The only place I know to find it is in The Wicked Horse.
I prowl through The Social Room, my gaze sweeping around for potentials. Nothing catches my eye. My interest isn’t piqued.
I make my way to my favorite room, The Silo. It’s usually the first place I try since the most adventurous patrons tend to hang out there. When I enter, my eyes are immediately drawn to the perimeter rooms built of glass walls. They are filled with people fucking, and I wait for the familiar warmth of anticipation to overtake me.
Nothing.
The prickles on my skin turn to painful needles.
With a sigh, I turn toward the circular bar in the middle of the room and my eyes immediately land on Kynan, who sits by himself. I happen to know The Silo is his favorite room, too, because he spends a lot of time here.
I make my way to him, and take the empty stool to his right. His head swivels, and he seems surprised to see me.
“Well, hello there, stranger,” he drawls.
Turning my eyes briefly away from him, I tell the bartender, “A bottle of water, please.”
Twisting back to Kynan, I ask, “Stranger? I just saw you at work today. And at your house just the day before that. I hardly think I’m being a stranger.”
Kynan chuckles. “That’s true. But you haven’t been at The Wicked Horse for weeks. In fact, not since before you went on the Syrian mission with Bodie.”
Has it really been that long?
“If I really wanted to get specific about it,” Kynan continues in a taunting voice. “Not since the time you and Bodie hooked up while in Paphos.”
My eyes narrow. “What are you trying to say?”
“You know what I’m saying. It’s been over six weeks.”
The bartender returns with my bottle of water, and I take it from him. “So what if it’s been a long time?”
Kynan gives a casual shrug. “I just think it’s interesting that you haven’t fucked anyone since Bodie.”
My head snaps his way. “Just because I haven’t been in here doesn’t mean I’m not fucking someone.” That gets a resounding snort of disbelief from Kynan, which pisses me off. “For all you know, I have a boy toy stashed at my house. I could be fucking his brains out morning, noon, and night.”
“Oh yeah,” Kynan drawls. “If that’s true, why are you here right now?”
I refuse to answer because it will only lead to his amusement. He likes to pretend he knows everything going on in the lives of his employees, and for the most part, he does. He’s one of the most intuitive people I know, damn him. But I’m feeling too unsettled and on the verge of exploding with some type of unnamed anger, so it’s best I don’t engage with him. Besides, Bodie has nothing to do with my absence from The Wicked Horse.
Not really. I mean, he has been occupying my thoughts since that night we were together, but I can’t give much credence to that. It was a phenomenal night of fucking that has left me bitter because I’m now knocked up. It certainly means nothing at all that my experiences here at The Wicked Horse have seemed beyond pale in comparison to that one night with him.
I chalk the sentiments up to some type of crazy pregnancy hormones going on within me.
Still, I hate myself intensely when I feel the need to ask Kynan, “Has Bodie been coming in?”
To Kynan’s credit, he doesn’t laugh. There’s not even a teasing flash that I can detect in his expression. He just looks at me blandly, and asks me a question in return. “Why does it matter?”
Ugh, it doesn’t matter. It absolutely does not matter.
Grabbing my water bottle, I rise from the stool. I won’t give Kynan the satisfaction of knowing he’s gotten to me, so I merely give him a cool smile. “I’m off to go prowl around. Happy fucking tonight.”
Kynan jerks his chin upward in acknowledgment. But before I can turn fully away from him, he asks, “Have you scheduled an appointment with an OB/GYN yet?”
I nod. “Tomorrow, actually.”
“Good. I’m sure you’ve got a lot of questions for the doctor.”
A lump forms in the center of my throat, and I attempt to swallow past it with utter failure. All I can do is nod in response before turning to walk away.
Kynan’s hand shoots out and encircles my wrist, bringing me to a halt. I crane my neck to look over my shoulder at him, raising one eyebrow in question.
“Rachel,” he says softly. “It’s going to be fine.”
I appreciate his optimism. He knows the source of my fear, so he feels compelled to say that. But his words hold no weight with me because no one knows for sure that it will be. I don’t want to talk about it any further, so I give him a warm smile along with the words he needs to hear so he can feel better. “Of course it will. I’ve got this.”
Kynan studies me for a moment before releasing my wrist. He inclines his head and says, “Happy hunting.”
I make my way back through The Silo and decide to try The Orgy Room. It’s easy to get laid in there because all I have to do is insinuate myself into a group of naked writhing bodies. No one ever says no.
I enter the room, trying to open myself up to the myriad of sights and sounds that have never failed to get me in the mood. The Orgy Room is just one spacious room where people in various states of undress fuck in groups of two or more. Low-lying benches and chaises fill the floor, while focused beams of light project from the ceiling down onto them. Grunts and moans and screams of pleasure fill the air.
It does nothing for me.
Goddamn it.
I square my shoulders with resolve. The move pushes my tits up against the low scoop of the blood-red dress that barely covers my intimate bits. With my nearly black hair, it’s the color that looks best on me. My eyes latch onto a group of three men and two women kissing and groping not ten feet from me. They are partially dressed, which suggests they are just getting started. One of the men looks up, and our eyes lock. He’s very handsome with longish brown hair and a trimmed beard. He grins wickedly and crooks his finger.
I put some extra sway in my hips as I start to walk his way.
For the second time tonight, my wrist is captured by a large hand. Before I even turn to see who has me, the prickles that had been racking my skin with extreme agitation immediately dull.
When I look over my shoulder, I’m not surprised to see Bodie.
And God… why does he have to look so good? Well-fit jeans, charcoal gray V-neck that hugs his muscled torso. That freakin’ mink-brown hair that seems messy and perfectly styled at the same time. It felt really damn good with my fingers running through it.
He’s too young, Rachel, I tell myself so I quit thinking about him that way, but it sounds totally hollow. I’ve never been one to box myself in by a stereotype. If I did, I wouldn’t be a member of an elite mercenary group since I’m a woman.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his hand locked tight on me.
A zing of lust pulses between my legs at the possessive tone of his voice. I have no clue why he feels he has the right to be possessive of me, but my body sure seems to like it.